Page 119 of My Unfinished Heart

“I am. Can you fry chicken?”

“Every time I’ve tried, I burn it, but I love to cook.”

Helen smiles—as warm as the day outside. “The trick is not to be shy when it comes to the oil. The more, the better. Come with me, let me teach you something. Archer, I have guests in the den. Why don’t you go introduce yourself and say hello. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

“How many guests?” I ask, not a fan of this scenario at all.

“Well, you met Eliza and Joey. They didn’t bite. Go on.”

Helen puts an arm around Tristan, leading him away. Tristan tosses a brilliant, happy smile over his shoulder at me, leaving me to fend for myself.

I do as I’m told and head for the den in the back of the house. The genius thing about the aroma of frying chicken is this: you don’t smell the trap you’re walking into.

I figure it out the second I hear the crack of a bat coming from the TV in the den. It’s been over seven months since I’ve seen West.

The dissolution of our friendship happened in my loft back in January right after I broke up with Jayne.

Now, in August, we are unwittingly reunited. The Rangers are playing the Astros in Houston, and West is on the L-shaped couch, kicked back with his feet up on the coffee table when I darken the doorway. There’s another little girl snuggled up next to him, a younger version of the first one minus the glasses and freckles.

“This figures,” he mumbles when he sees me.

I ignore him and address the little girl. “Hi. I’m Archer.”

She gives me a bright smile that’s missing a top tooth. “I’m Kate!”

“Do you know this guy?” I ask, regarding West.

“He’s my mom’s boyfriend.”

Oh.

“Boys,” Helen’s voice comes from the dining room. We all turn to face her. “I realize nobody's too happy with me right now, but I made peach cobbler, and there’s fresh vanilla ice cream, so I expect you both to be civilized and enjoy the evening. Got it?”

We nod.

“Good.” She takes a moment to give each of us a stern glance. “I have to get back to the kitchen now.”

I sit down in the armchair closest to Kate. “Have they been together long?” I ask her, feeling more disconnected from West than when I lived in Seattle for six years.

“They just had their four month anniversary.”

She mispronounces anniversary, but I get the gist.

“Do you like him?” I ask.

“I love him. I want him to be my dad.”

West shifts in his seat. “All right, Kate. That’s enough. Go play outside.”

“I wanna watch the game!”

“Fine. Whatever. No more talking then.”

She zips her mouth.

The three of us watch the game in a horrible silence, the Rangers struggling in the middle innings. It’s painful on multiple levels. The tattooed woman comes in at the top of the ninth, once we’ve finally managed a one run lead. She stands beside my chair. “I’m Joey. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself before. You caught me off guard.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say and shake her offered hand.